Blind Date
by angelaumbrello
Summary: CatherineSofia Femslash. The successful man is the one who had the chance and took it.Roger Babson


Spoilers: none

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. This story is written for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.

Pairing: Sofia/Catherine.

A/N: Thank you Debbie for the beta, and the encouragement. I had planned on making this angst filled one-shot, but the darn thing wouldn't co-operate, so you're stuck with fluff.

_The successful man is the one who had the chance and took it._

_(Roger Babson)_

Not that she didn't have every right to a night out, but it still surprised Sofia to see Catherine alone in of all places, a bar. Especially if what she had heard from the grapevine was even half true.

Though technically, the strawberry-blonde wasn't alone. A pair of scruffy looking men in their mid to late 30's was trying to ply her with alcohol, phony smiles, and even phonier promises. Most likely what they were really after was a quick roll in the hay, and they had made the erroneous assumption that the older woman was an easy notch for the bedpost. Catherine fidgeted slightly on her stool, doing her best to simply ignore her two Neanderthal paramours. Unfortunately, they were either too dumb, or too drunk, to get the hint.

Sofia only needed to observe the scene for a few seconds before deciding enough was enough. She was half tempted to bulldoze her way over to them, and punch both males in the face. Maybe then they would learn to respect women, a lesson that their parents obviously failed to instill in them.

After pulling her police i.d. from her purse, Sofia made her way to the trio, and tapped the closest of the males on the shoulder. Before he even had a chance to react, she shoved her badge in his face. "Why don't you take your buddy, and get going, before I run you in?" she said in her best no-nonsense police voice.

The taller of the two gave her a once over, like he was appraising a piece of meat, and cocked an appreciative eyebrow at her apparel. The blonde was wearing ordinary dark blue jeans that hugged her like a second skin. It was her blouse though, that stole the show. Silver and shimmery, its neckline plunged just an inch or two short of revealing whether her belly-button was an inny or an outy. And if that wasn't enough, the lack of a back guaranteed anyone coming from behind a lovely view of pale, smooth skin.

"Do you really expect us to take you seriously, wearing an outfit like that?"

"As a matter of fact I do. So we can either do this the easy way, and you can leave on your own, or we can do this the hard way, and I can call a few of my friends down here."

"Hey, if they look anything like you, then I say the more the merrier," the short guy said with a smirk.

"You think this is some kind of a joke? Don't let my clothes fool you, I can still kick both your asses, and not break a nail."

"She can. I've seen her do it," Catherine chimed in.

"Right. What are you, 100 pounds soaking wet?" the taller guy said as he leaned in. "Not that I wouldn't mind seeing you soaking wet, maybe even panting a little bit."

Before he knew what hit him, he was flat on his back, staring up in disbelief at how quickly the blonde had incapacitated him. For her part, Sofia felt as if ants were crawling under skin. "You've got to be kidding me; did you not see the badge? You wanna try taking me seriously now?"

"C'mon Mike, let's get out of here," the shorter one said while helping his friend up. "They're probably a couple of lesbos anyway."

Sofia rolled her eyes, but chose not to comment. They were just a pair of typical over-aged frat boys, who mistake having standards with being gay.

"Dumb-asses," Catherine muttered to their retreating backs. "They probably don't realize they're the prime reason lesbians exist in the first place."

Sofia laughed, drawing Catherine's full attention to her. "No wonder they didn't take you seriously," she said after giving her an appreciative once-over. "Are you undercover Sofia? Or did they change the police uniforms?"

"Neither," Sofia said, trying not to read more into the older woman's words. "I was just leaving the restaurant upstairs when I saw you. It looked like you could've used a rescue."

"Ahh, my knight in shining armor, or should I say low-cut silk," Catherine said sardonically. She patted the stool next to her in silent invitation to the blonde. "I could've handled them myself . . . but thanks."

Sofia decided not to refute her claim as she took a seat, and ordered a beer. The strawberry-blonde did not look as if she was handling anything, but if Catherine wanted to fool herself, then she was certainly not going to argue the point.

Once her drink came, Sofia sipped it slowly as she studied the older woman, who was dressed in super-tight, form-fitting black from her head to her toes. The leather pants, and spaghetti-strapped shirt hugged every curve on her body, and if Sofia were to angle her head just right, she could get a nice view of the twins.

"See something you like?" Catherine asked, wearing a crooked little smile that said she knew exactly what the detective was looking at.

Sofia turned her head to the side in embarrassment. Didn't she just shoo off two men for doing pretty much what she'd just been caught doing?

"It's okay. I was just joking. Besides, I'm used to it by now."

Sofia turned to face the older woman, feeling even lower than she had before. "You shouldn't have to be," she said solemnly.

Catherine raised an eyebrow in question before giving a dry chuckle. "Don't sweat it, okay? If I really, and truly minded being looked at, do you really think I'd dress the way I do? At least you had the decency to be embarrassed at being caught."

"Right," Sofia said blushing. "I just didn't want you to think that I was like those two. I'm not trying to get down your pants."

_Too bad,_ Catherine thought. "I know you're not like them. You're too much of gentleman Sofia to take advantage of a lady."

"Gentleman? Knight in shining armor? I know I'm a little . . . butch . . . but I'm still a woman."

"Especially in that outfit." Catherine muttered in reply. "Which reminds me, have I told you, I really like that shirt you're almost wearing?"

"No, you haven't," Sofia said smiling shyly. "I was suppose to be on a blind date. My mother set me up with one of her friend's sons. Apparently I need to get on the ball and start pumping out a grandkid or two."

"Poor Sofia," Catherine said, but the stifled laughter gave her away.

"Thanks," Sofia dead panned. "I'm so glad for my friend's sympathy in my time of agony."

"Oh, they can't _all _be that bad . . . can they?"

Sofia rolled her eyes. "You're kidding right? I'm certain you have a few horror stories of your own to share."

"Yeah, but I can top you. I married one of those horror stories."

"But at least you got Lindsey out of it," Sofia quickly reminded her.

Catherine nodded her head in agreement. Despite the constant mother/daughter head butting that had been going on these past couple of years, she still wouldn't give up her daughter for any thing in the world. "Why don't we grab another drink, and sit in a booth, so we can talk, and not have to worry about any more assholes bothering us."

Sofia smiled, and after getting another drink, followed the strawberry-blonde to their destination with two bottles of beers in hand. It was a table tucked away in the corner, far from roving eyes.

"This is my favorite booth," Catherine confided as she settled in with her own two drinks. "Nobody can see you, but it's the perfect place for people-watching."

Sofia agreed with a nod of her head. The strawberry-blonde was right, the angle of the leather-bound bench and the dim lighting provided perfect covering for anyone who wanted anonymity, but still wanted to keep an eye on the comings and goings of the other patrons.

"So...what horror-show of a blind date did you just escape from?" Catherine asked once they were settled.

"He didn't show up. A whole hour I'm sitting there feeling like an idiot in the middle of a crowded restaurant before he decides to call me. He said he was still in a meeting, something about a multi-million dollar contract, yadda, yadda, yadda. I don't know why I let my mother do this to me," Sofia finished with a sigh.

"Could have been worse,"

"Yeah, he could collect pez."

"_What_?"

"The date before this one," Sofia explained. "He collected pez. He had more than 300 of them, even devoted a whole room in his house to them."

"Wow. Your mom can really pick some winners."

"Yeah, and then there was the one before that. Right before the check came he went to the bathroom and never came back. Left _me _to pay for the dinner, nearly maxed out my credit card. Maybe I should just cut all my hair off, and find a nice girl to settle down with."

"Ha! I bet your mom would love that," Catherine said. "Though I hope you were kidding about cutting your hair. I hate to admit to it, but I'm a little jealous at how long and straight it is."

"No, she wouldn't," Sofia said with a sad laugh, once again not sure of how to take Catherine's compliment.

"Hey, you don't know how your mother would react, so don't judge her too harshly," Catherine said as she ran a hand through the blonde's long hair. "One day you'll find someone. And your mother will accept you, no matter what."

"I hope you're right." Sofia felt a tingling sensation at the strawberry-blonde's touch. Unconsciously she leaned in so that the tips of Catherine's fingertips brushed against the side of her face as the two women locked eyes with each other. "I don't want to sound desperate, or corny, but I do want to find someone, you know? Somewhere out there is my other half, my soul-mate, my . . . whatever."

"Maybe they're closer than you think,"Catherine said.

She let her hand linger a few seconds longer, and then pulled it back. But neither woman broke their visual contact. They couldn't. They could both feel something pass between them, an invisible connection that was tethering them together, causing things to slowly change between them.

Somewhere in the distance, a waitress dropped a tray of beers causing a loud crash, that startled both women. With their connection broken, they separated like they had been burned. Sofia slid across the seat so that she was now sitting across from the older woman. Suddenly their drinks were the most fascinating thing in the world to them, and for several minutes silence ruled, for neither Sofia nor Catherine could raise their head to face the other. Neither woman knew what to say. The fear of rejection, that they had misread something in the other woman was just too strong.

From time to time Sofia raised her head to steal a glance at Catherine, only to quickly lower it. She didn't realize the strawberry-blonde was doing the same thing, until they caught each other's eyes and froze.

"God, what are we in fourth grade?" Catherine said in exasperation. Things would be so much simpler if Sofia were male. It would be easier to take a chance, come right out and state her intentions, not dance around them. There would be no awkwardness, no stolen glances, and no second guessing. Sighing the strawberry-blonde patted the space next to her and said, "Come over here, and sit next to me."

Sofia complied, albeit reluctantly. She was unsure of what the older woman had in mind, so she reached over, brought her drink to her, and sipped as she waited.

The strawberry-blonde leaned back into her seat, and sighed deeply. "This is silly. We're both grown women . . . it shouldn't be this hard. I should be able to come right out and say; hey I like you, let's go out on a date, and then after let's have sex. Just like I'd do with a guy."

Sofia eyed her questionably. "Just like that?"

"Well, no. Not _exactly _like that. You know what I mean; if you were a guy I'd know exactly what to say, and how to say it. And the worst thing that could happen is you'd say no, and I'd feel slightly silly."

"So? Pretend I'm a guy."

"_What?!"_

"You heard me. Pretend I'm a guy," Sofia said with a smile. "I'll even deepen my voice, if it'll help."

Catherine did a mini spit-take with her martini at the younger woman's pitiful attempt at a tenor voice. "Not while wearing that outfit."

"Fine," Sofia said with a shy smile. She returned to her normal voice, much to the strawberry-blonde's relief. "Did you really mean what you said? Do you . . . like me?"

"Yeah," Catherine said nervously. The familiar fluttering in her stomach, that always seemed to take to place when Sofia was close-by, was returning.

Sofia leaned so she could whisper into the strawberry-blonde's ear. "I like you too."

Catherine shivered as the blonde's breath tickled sher earlobe, and Sofia smiled at her reaction. Maybe this wasn't as hard as they both made it out to be. Maybe they just needed to stop thinking about other people's reactions. Maybe one of them just needed to screw up the courage to take a chance – a chance that could very well have a bigger payoff than anything a mere casino could offer.

"Catherine?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"On one condition," Catherine said with a devil-may-care smile.

"And what's that?"

"You wear that outfit."


End file.
